The Torture
by MissFeral
Summary: Halloween turns into a very ticklish situation for Jerry and Kramer. They are being held hostage by a mystery man and are shocked to find out who he is! Can they survive? WARNING: involves A LOT of tickling for two unfortunate characters.
1. Chapter 1

"This feels like the opening to a bad porn," Jerry said glumly.

It was Halloween night – around 8 pm. Jerry and Kramer were in some trouble.

A curvy blond woman in a leopard bikini entered the room. She walked over to them and Kramer remarked, "Actually this feels like a pretty good porn…"

Two more girls came over. A lightly freckled redhead wearing a black bikini, and a tanned brunette in a green bikini.

"Hey, girls," Kramer cracked a horny little smile. "How about giving us a hand?"

"Umm, we were just leaving actually," said the blonde. They put on their jackets and quickly left the premises.

"Huh?" Kramer said in confusion, and slight disappointment.

This whole mess started when they each received a letter from an unknown being, inviting them to a party at a haunted house in the countryside. They decided to go to the party...assuming the inviter to probably be just a friend of theirs, trying to act all mysterious. The party started out weird right from the beginning. Lots of odd guests showed up, but nobody that they knew. The haunted house turned out to be nothing but an old farmhouse converted into a sort of "fun house". Only there was nothing fun about it.

Jerry and Kramer ended up locked in a dimly lit room, alone and chained to armchairs. They were completely vulnerable, their hands tied over their heads and their ankles in wooden stocks. Their shirts had been yanked off by some oddball in a gorilla suit. A lady disguised as a witch stole their shoes and socks. Their wallets also went missing. Now both men sat helpless in the gloom, clad in white tank tops and their bare feet shivering in the cold. They listened to faint festive music from behind the wall and awaited their fate.

"We're never gonna get out of this," Kramer hissed as he tried to pull free of the restraints.

"We have to get out," Jerry said. "I have a show later tonight."

Then the music faded away and an eerie silence crept over the room. A chill washed in through the cracked window, bringing with it whispers of impending doom. The figure of a tall entity appeared within the shadows. The dark figure stood motionless, the only sounds being the whistling autumn wind and Kramer's heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

"Is somebody there?" Jerry called in a calm tone.

The ominous figure remained motionless and draped in shadow, but it began to chuckle. It was a dry, harsh chuckle.

"W-w-who are you?" Kramer stammered.

The man stepped forward and the dim light shone on his face. Pale blond hair, a cruel smile, and his features all too familiar. His icy cold eyes gleamed with malice.

"Oh my God!" Jerry whimpered as his blood ran cold.

Kramer nearly wet his pants. "Ohhhhh! SHIT! Not you!"

They stared into the face of Joe Davola.

Crazy Joe Davola.

The most terrifying man in the world. Dressed completely in black and carrying a leather bag. His crooked grin never vanished from his deranged face.

Jerry and Kramer freaked out. They tried calling for help but that proved useless. They thrashed in their bonds but to no avail. This madman had them completely at his mercy, and he knew it.

"Don't hurt us," Kramer squeaked.

Joe Davola approached them, not making a single noise as he moved over the floorboards. He put the bag on the floor, then walked around in front of and behind his captives.

"What's this all about?" Jerry inquired, shaking in fear. "You invite us to a party only to have us stripped down, tied up, and put in stocks? You set a trap for us! You tricked us, you crazy lunatic!"

"Yes. I suppose I did."

"So what are you gonna do now? Kill us?"

"I plan to take my time," Joe said, taking a peek inside his bag. "I would like to spend some time with you boys. Have a few laughs."

Joe came over to stand behind Kramer, slowly running his hand down the underside of his arm. Kramer twitched when Joe got close to his exposed armpit.

"Wohohoah! Watch that!" Kramer giggled as Joe poked in his armpit with one finger.

"Are your underarms ticklish?" Joe asked.

Kramer gulped. "Uh, y-yeah…a little."

A demonic smile broke into Joe's pale face. This was exactly what he had been counting on.

"Oh no, how unfortunate...for you." And with that, Joe began wiggling his index finger in Kramer's fuzzy, sweaty armpits.

Kramer burst out giggling and squirmed around, pleading like a helpless girl. "N-no! Nohohoho! Hahahahaha! Dohohon't tihihickle mehehehehe!"

Joe started tickling both armpits at the same time, scratching all his fingers into the hairy hollows. Kramer laughed louder and started jerking from side to side. He thrashed about, trying in vain to get away. Joe continued tickling him this way for ten minutes. He enjoyed his captive's laughter and pleas. What a joy it was…what a deliciously evil delight.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOP! STOOOP! PLEEEASE!" Kramer laughed, jerking around wildly in the chair.

Joe's hands moved down to his ribs and sides, digging gently into those areas with all ten fingers.

"HEEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE! YOU'RE KILLING ME!"

"That's the idea," Joe replied as he went for Kramer's belly. He scribbled his fingers all over the belly, giving it gentle squeezes and rubs.

"HEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!" Kramer squealed, his stomach muscles hardening under the ticklish torture. His thin undershirt proved little protection from the madman's dancing hands. He laughed hysterically as he twisted around, trying desperately to free himself. "OHHHH MAMA HAHAHAHAHAHAHA THAT TICKLES!"

As Jerry witnessed this, he realized with horror that Joe Davola had planned this all along! He actually intended to tickle them to death. Jerry laid his head back and tried to relax, but his heart pounded wildly in his chest. He knew Kramer's suffering would soon be his fate as well. He did pity his friend, but not enough to say anything or protest. He didn't want Crazy Joe to get started on him! At least not any sooner than necessary. So Jerry decided to remain silent.

Joe certainly didn't plan to let Kramer rest anytime soon. He took a long, purple feather from his bag. Kramer's eyes widened in terror as Joe lifted up his undershirt. Joe began spinning the feather around in Kramer's belly button.

"AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOOOOOO PLEASE STOP! HEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE AHHHH! WOOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" Kramer howled as his face turned all shades of red.

Joe did stop, but only for a moment. Kramer gasped for air, struggling to catch his breath.

"You seem to be enjoying this, Mr. Kramer."

Kramer stared at the madman in shock. "Enjoying?! Are you k-kidding me? This is t-torture!"

"But it's making you laugh," Joe said.

"Of course I laugh," Kramer whined, tears flooding his brown eyes. "It tickles."

Joe grinned wickedly, showing his crooked front teeth. He dragged his hand slowly along Kramer's leg (still covered by his pants). This unwelcome caress on his leg made Kramer highly uncomfortable. Then Joe's traveling hand reached Kramer's feet, which of course were bare.

"Are your feet as ticklish as the rest of you?" Joe asked with a disturbing smile.

Jerry averted his eyes. He couldn't bear to watch this part.

The terrified Kramer begged him not to, but Joe did it anyway. His fingers scribbled all over Kramer's wide, meaty soles.

Jerry cringed when Kramer exploded in those high-pitched squeals. It sent shivers down the comedian's spine listening to someone get their feet tickled. It had been Jerry's lifelong secret that he was outrageously ticklish on the soles of his feet. His only ticklish spot, in fact. About a month ago he accidentally let this information slip out, and his three best friends exploited his weakness. Those people were his _friends_ though! Imagine what fucking Crazy Joe Davola would do to him!

"NOOOO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT MY FEEHEEHEEHEEHEET!" Kramer shrieked as tears poured from his eyes. His body glistened with sweat as he thrashed and bucked in his seat.

The sour smell of fresh urine filled the air. Joe lifted his head and sniffed the air. His smile gleamed with sadistic happiness. "Damn, Mr. Kramer...you pissed in your pants! You are disgusting!" He chuckled a bit, and continued tickling Kramer's feet.

Jerry grimaced as anger seized him. He clenched his fists and mumbled under his breath, "You sick, sick bastard."

Joe grabbed some string and quickly tied back Kramer's big toes to limit movement. He then picked up the long feather and mercilessly dragged it between Kramer's toes. The feather snaked through the spaces between every toe, very slowly. Kramer screamed with hysterical laughter. He arched his back and thrashed so hard the armchair almost flew over backwards.

Jerry desperately wanted to shout 'leave him alone' but he feared that it would only anger Joe and invite that huge feather to be used on his own toes. That idea terrified him too much.

A very long hour passed before Joe finally got tired of tickling Kramer's soles and toes. He stopped tickling and gave his captive some much-needed time to catch his breath.

"Well, that sure was fun," Joe sighed happily. "Wasn't it, Mr. Kramer?"

Kramer could barely speak clearly now. He was exhausted. It took all his strength during that session to keep from passing out. He inhaled deep and fast, struggling to regain his composure.

Joe smiled and shook his head. "You are the most ticklish man I have ever met. Do you have any idea how shameful and degrading that is, Mr. Kramer? You are truly a pathetic creature."

"Don't…don't talk to me…like that," Kramer whined.

Joe rummaged in his bag for another tickle tool. When he found it, he carefully concealed the device so Kramer wouldn't see it. He came up behind Kramer, in a position to attack his underarms.

Kramer started blubbering like a baby. "No, no, no….not under the arms again. Please, no more tickling. I need a break!"

"You got a break! And it ends now!"

As Joe said this, Kramer suddenly heard a shrill buzzing behind his head. He couldn't see what Joe was about to do, but he noticed Jerry staring at it with pure horror on his face.

"What? WHAT?" Kramer shouted, tensing up and preparing for the worst. "Jerry, what's going on? What's he gonna do?"

Then Kramer felt something whirling around in the hollow of his underarm. It was a sensation like nothing he had ever endured before. Horrible, excruciating ticklishness shot through his entire body and he exploded in peels of hysterical laughter. He shook with spasms and whipped his head around as he howled.

Joe had an electric toothbrush and was tickling Kramer's armpit with it. He slowly led the whirly device in a circular motion, up and down. The spinning bristles got entangled in the dark armpit hair, but the lubricating sweat kept the brush running smoothly.

"AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEEEEHEHEHEHEHEASE! I CAN'T BREEEEATHE! OOOOOOOOHH HAAAAVE MEEEERCY!"

Tears streamed down his cheeks. His chest and sides throbbed with pain from so much laughing. His wrists and ankles burned from violent yanking at the restraints. When he threw his head back, he found himself gazing through tear-filled eyes into Joe's grinning face.

Joe drove that fiendish toothbrush in Kramer's armpit for twenty minutes. He then placed the toothbrush into the other armpit, using the same torturous tactics to keep his victim in an endless Hell without a moment of relief. Thirty more minutes of underarm tickling ensued. Joe made sure he tickled those pits until the sensitive flesh turned bright red – almost as red as Kramer's face. The poor guy was almost to his breaking point.

Then Joe stopped, but not long enough for Kramer to rest. He moved over to his feet again, immediately running the toothbrush over his big, smooth soles and between all his toes.

Kramer's face turned redder than the sign at Kenny Rogers' Roasters. His whole body wracked with convulsions as sweat dripped from every pore. He threw his head back and screamed in tortured laughter.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH NOOOOOO HAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE OOOOOOOOHH GOD PLEEEEEASE! JERRY, HEEEELP MEEE!"

It was the most devastating and unbearable tickle torture Kramer had ever experienced in his life. His feet were the most ticklish spot on his body, especially his toes. This hellish tool covered every inch of his vulnerable feet, sneaking into every little crevice. Not a single tiny section was spared from the vibrating, whirling bristles of the electric toothbrush.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE! JUST LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU CRAZY FUCKING LUNATIC!" Jerry screamed at the top of his lungs.

Kramer could only handle a few minutes of this horrific tickling method before being pushed to the absolute limit of his strength. He fainted, and his head dropped forward as his large frame fell limp in the chair.

When Jerry saw that Kramer had passed out, a wave of nausea swept over him. Now came his turn to suffer the wrath of Joe Davola.

There came a knock on the door, and a boy in a goblin costume poked his head into the room.

"What do you want?!" Joe barked at the goblin. "I am unspeakably busy!"

"I just saw two people come in, sir…and I don't think they were invited."

Joe fumed, hissing like an angry snake as he stormed out. "Party crashers…they will pay."

Jerry started to relax, but Joe was having none of it. "OH, don't think I'm forgetting about you, Seinfeld. I will be back. You WILL get yours!"

Jerry's face filled with fear again.

Joe chuckled. "It could take days or even weeks, but I will tickle you both to _death_. I know it's difficult to accept, but look on the bright side…you'll be laughing as you go. BHAHAHA!"


	2. Chapter 2

Jerry waited. The gloomy, chilly room had become very quiet. About ten minutes had passed since Joe Davola went to deal with some party crashers. Soon he would return, and Jerry's nightmare would begin. He trembled, curling up his toes defensively as he imagined the coming suffering. As for Kramer, he remained unconscious after having received the tickle torture of his life. Sweat drenched his body. His torso could be seen right through his soaked white shirt. His hair sagged down like a mop of wet ragweed. He undoubtedly sat in a swamp of his own piss. His eyes were puffy and swollen. Dried tears left long, streaking stains on his face. His cheeks flamed with rosy redness, as did his armpits and soles. Jerry looked at his buddy, frowning. _Poor guy._

"Fuck those party crashers, I couldn't find them anywhere." The door banged open and Joe Davola entered, carrying a large bottle of water. "Told you I would come back, Jerry."

With that, he removed the cap from the bottle and held it to Jerry's mouth. "Drink this water. Drink ALL OF IT!"

"W-why?" Jerry whimpered.

Joe held Jerry's chin with a strong hand, and proceeded to pour the cool water down his throat. "I want to make sure you pee."

"Buh…but…I don't want to pee," Jerry protested, choking a bit as the water forcibly entered his throat.

Joe forced his captive to chug that bottle until it was empty, though much of the water dribbled down his chin, spilling onto his chest.

"Now," Joe grinned evilly as he took position at Jerry's stocked bare feet. "We will begin."

Every bit of Jerry's smugness, pride, and ego went right out the window – he broke down and begged for mercy.

"Please, please don't tickle me! I can't stand to be tickled! My feet are so ticklish!"

Joe laughed, selecting a blue feather. He placed the stem of the feather in the center of Jerry's sole, sliding it up and down the arch.

"NO PLEASE, DON'T!" Jerry shrieked as he burst into uncontrollable laughter. "HEEHEHEHEHEHEHEE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH GOD, STOP! STOP IT!"

As he continued tickling, Joe smiled from ear to ear with the utmost joy. Jerry Seinfeld…the man he hated so passionately…was extremely ticklish! Having him around as a tickle slave (until he died) was Joe's dream come true. He stroked the feather along the length of his soles, from heels to the tips of his toes.

Jerry howled with laughter. It tickled so much he couldn't believe it! His face flushed as he squirmed around, trying in vain to pull his feet away from the feather. _Oh man, now he knows my ticklish spot,_ he thought unhappily. The feather weaved through the gaps between his toes.

"AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEEHEHEHEHEHEASE I CAN'T TAKE IT! NOOOO NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO MORE!"

Joe kept this up for a long time, then he stopped and put the feather down. Jerry struggled to catch his breath, tears leaking from his eyes. His cheeks were flushed red.

"This calls for another toy," Joe said, rummaging in his leather bag of torture devices. Moments later, he produced a ball gag.

Jerry groaned. "Oh…no…"

Joe placed the silicone ball between Jerry's teeth and fastened the strap behind his head to hold it in place. Jerry tried to yell in protest, but only muffled sounds came out.

"There, that suites you! Now let's get back to business, shall we?" Joe smirked, and he began tickling Jerry's feet with his fingers. He took special pleasure in attacking the arches of his feet – the worst spot of all.

Shrieking laughter erupted from Jerry's throat, only to be caught and muffled by the gag. His face turned crimson and he thrashed helplessly in the seat.

"That's right…laugh it up, Jerry. Tickle tickle tickle." Joe dragged his nails into the comedian's arches.

Tears streamed down Jerry's face. He whipped his head around, biting hard on the ball as drool overflowed from his mouth. He actually thought he was going to die. More fear struck him when his bladder grew heavy. He knew how determined Joe was to make him pee like a wimp, simply out of pure wicked pleasure. The tickling kept up with full intensity for an hour, but finally stopped when Joe's fingers got tired. The madman needed to rest his hands, giving Jerry a badly-needed break in the process.

Around this time, Kramer woke up from his tickle-induced coma and realized that his buddy had been put through the same torture. The sight of the infamous ball gag caused him to quiver. "Oh, Jerry…Holy Shiiiit!" His voice was weak and scratchy.

The comedian was a wreck. His bloated bladder was ready to burst and he shook with discomfort. He whimpered and mumbled incoherently into the gag, with saliva running down his chin.

Joe was sitting down, resting his hands on his knees. He grinned at the two helpless hostages. The night was still young. Time for more fun!

Reaching into his leather bag, Joe produced another tool…

A black, permanent pen.

Then Joe proceeded to very slowly write 'I AM TICKLISH' on the bottom of Jerry's feet, on both soles. The feeling was extremely ticklish and Jerry burst out laughing. When Joe finished with Jerry, he wrote the exact same message on Kramer's soles, causing him to howl with tortured laughter.

"Just so you know," Joe said, harshly. "That ink is permanent. It won't come off…Well, it might in a few months, but…you creeps may no longer be alive."

"No more tickling," Kramer sobbed. "We can't take it anymore! Just let us go!"

Joe just laughed. He then grabbed the feathers and started tickling their feet all over again. "Kitchy kitchy koo…"

The room filled with loud, hysterical laughter from Kramer and muffled screeches from Jerry. The comedian finally lost control of his full bladder and soaked the seat. The smell made Joe very happy, the sadist.

Just when all hope seemed lost, somebody outside kicked through the window and shattered it. Two people dressed as skiers burst into the room. One of the persons came rushing over and jabbed a needle into Joe's shoulder.

"TAKE YOUR MEDICINE!" shouted a familiar female voice.

Joe froze in place as the needle plunged into his body – a stunned look on his pale face. In a moment, the medication entered his blood stream and Joe let out a sigh. The cruel, inhumane, and vengeful persona shriveled away and a much calmer demeanor replaced it. Joe blinked several times as he looked at his victims in confusion, as if not recognizing his own handiwork...or remembering his master plan of revenge. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as he staggered away, in search of a place to rest. And that was the last they would see of Crazy Joe Davola for quite a while.

Jerry and Kramer gradually started to regain their composure. They stared at their rescuers with grateful, teary eyes. The skiers removed their masks. It was Elaine and George.

Kramer trembled with joy. "We're saved, Jerry! We're saved!"

George went to Jerry and took out his ball gag.

"Elaine! George! Thank God!" Jerry cried happily. "How did you find us?"

Elaine gave him a look, pulling out an invitation addressed to her and holding it in his face. "These things actually fooled you? It's got Davola's initials right on the back! Not to mention his _scent."_

"When we found out you guys were coming out here, well…we figured we better follow to make sure you didn't get into any trouble," George explained.

"And you're lucky we did too," Elaine added.

"So I guess Joe Davola has got a tickle fetish, eh?" George said, mildly surprised. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"OH, there's something wrong with it, buddy!" Kramer blurted out, understandably distressed from the ordeal.

"We just had to get a disguise and lay low so he wouldn't catch us," Elaine explained, smirking a bit. "Say hello to the party crashers."

"Oh! That was you guys!" Jerry said in awe. "You're both so clever!"

Elaine nodded. "Yep."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Kramer cried, jiggling around excitedly in his restraints. "Let's go home!"

"Yeah, get us out of these things, will ya?" Jerry said.

George and Elaine looked down and saw the words 'I AM TICKLISH' written on both Jerry's and Kramer's bare soles.

"Ummm….guys? A little help?"

Elaine stifled a smile, clearing her throat as she glanced at George. "What do you think we should do?"

"Hmm," George said, curling his lip. "I think we should help them out, Elaine."

"Yeah, you're right," she said.

"But of course…," George whispered something into Elaine's ear and they both grinned.

Jerry and Kramer looked at each other, renewed nervousness building up inside them.

"Please?" Kramer said meekly.

"Pretty please?" Jerry squeaked.

"I know you both have been through a nightmare," Elaine spoke sympathetically.

"And we're going to help you get out of here, I promise," George assured them. "But hey, it's a little hard to pass up on this opportunity."

A wicked smile spread across Elaine's face. "Let's have some fun…"

The dark, moonless night came alive with laughter anew. The endless squeals of the ticklish duo reminded all those who passed by that Halloween was a night meant to be filled with laughs…and no shortage of tricks.

The End


End file.
